All Is Now Harmed
by I am The Half-Blood Wombat
Summary: Determined to create a fresh start, Loki returns to Earth with every intention to stay out of trouble. Frankly, he's tired of being on the run. All seems well until enemies from his past emerge like ghosts from the shadows. Between avoiding those looking to cash in on the prize for his head and a relentless stranger, he's left wishing he'd crumbled with Asgard. Post-Ragnarok.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, friends! I, like a lot of people, rekindled my obsession with Loki after seeing Ragnarok this weekend. I've dabbled in writing fanfic before, but this is my first publish online! Happy trails & please enjoy :)**

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The first time the subway broke down, Nora considered it a rite of passage. Having only been in New York for three weeks, she had yet to experience anything that she could claim as unique to being a resident of the city. She'd dodged wayward cabs and befriended the greasy rats that scurried down the alleyway of her apartment but she'd done nothing that truly screamed, "THIS IS THE LIFE OF A NEW YORKER!"

Taking the subway to and from her new job as the Junior Project Coordinator at the Mason Publishing House had taught her many things. First, and most importantly, don't leave home without pocket hand sanitizer. It only takes one time to grab ahold of the pole and connect with a fresh wad of gum to remember that the hand sanitizer is as important as the apartment keys, maybe even more important depending on the day. Second, don't think that just because the next train is supposed to arrive in 15 minutes that it will do as it has promised. You'll wait an extra 10 minutes for believing such a blatant lie and another 7 for leaving the hand sanitizer at home again (dammit, Nora!). Finally, you've no right to complain about anything regarding the subway if you've never been stranded in a crowded train after a 10-hour workday sweating like a pig in a blanket with your ass awkwardly positioned at eye level with the lovely lady that scored an open seat behind you.

The first time the subway broke down, Nora considered it a rite of passage.

The fifth time it broke down, Nora considered attending the monthly anger management sessions offered by the wellness center in her office building.

The thirteenth time it broke down, Nora bought a bike.

The first time she was clipped by a taxi, Nora sold the bike to a cousin and promptly re-activated her subway card.

A full month into her new life as a New Yorker, Nora finally accepted her fate to devote a small portion of her life stuck in subway limbo. Her blouses now had perpetual sweat stains in the armpit area and she'd had more physical contact with strangers than the Pope at a meet-and-greet but no one could argue her status as an established local now.

She crawled up the stairs a full hour after her original arrival time, the sun now dancing cheek-to-cheek with the horizon. Her feet ached and her hands were sweaty and if one more person bumped into her she was going to head-butt them. As the violence of her thoughts settled into a manageable heat, a sharp elbow connected with the small of her back, pushing her forward and knocking her phone to the ground. The shock of the gesture seemed to paralyze her as her gaze lingered on the phone in front of her.

"Ma'am, I think you dropped this," someone said, bending down and handing her the unscathed phone.

She mumbled a half-hearted 'thanks' before lifting her head and locking her vision to the man who had ran into her. He wasn't in any particular hurry, no blood seemed to be visible, no shouts of getting to the hospital to see a sick aunt. In fact, he seemed to be lazily strolling down the street, his hands in the pocket of his all black suit and his long legs carrying him at a casual pace. So why the fuck had he ran into her like the goddamn subway was about to blow?

Without pausing to sort through her emotions to find a rational thought, she quickly tore off after the stranger, her feet taking her a twice her normal pace. Reaching out, she grasped his elbow, stilling him and causing him to whip his face down to meet hers.

"Hey, buddy, what the fuck was that all about? You just run into me and take off like you're out for a Sunday fucking stroll? No apology? Nothing?"

She took a brief moment to take in his appearance. He had to be at least a foot taller than her. He was lean but with her hand still on his elbow, she could tell he was fit, his muscles taut under her grasp. His shoulder-length black hair was roughly pushed out of his face revealing a pair of scathing green orbs. He took in a breath as if to respond to her line of questioning but decided against it, snatching his elbow out of her grasp and quickly moving away from her, his fists clenching and unclenching as he stormed away.

Once again, she was left stunned for a moment, almost as if she had touched a live wire.

"Fucking asshole," she muttered, the life suddenly flooding back inside of her as she sped up to him again. This time, she did not grab him, instead she positioned herself in front of him and blocked his path.

"Look asshat, it isn't that hard to apologize. You ever heard of being polite?"

He tried to step around her but she matched his movements. He stilled and let out a breath, a futile attempt to calm his rising temper.

"Can you just say that you're sorry so we can both move on with our days?"

"We could move on with our days quite easily, you see, if you would remove yourself from my presence," he spat, the elegance of his voice not soothing enough to mask the venom behind his words.

"And we could have even nicer days if you would recognize that you made a mistake and own up to it like a decent human being!"

He opened his mouth to speak and paused when his eyes lifted above her head, focusing on something behind her.

When he did not respond, she grew even more impatient. "Two fucking words! I'M. SORRY. How is that so hard?"

He went to step around her, his eyes still locked on some unseen being. This time, his pace wasn't lazy or even seething, it was a panicked like a rabbit that had been spotted by a fox.

Nora wasn't about to let him slime his way past her again; she was invested and she couldn't let it go now, even if he was a complete stranger with a fancy accent.

He seemed to remember her presence as he stumbled in an attempt to maneuver around her. His wide eyes flickered down to her almost as if he was seeing her for the first time.

"You need to let me go, now," he instructed, trying once more to side-step her.

She moved to counter his escape and stuck her chin up. "You need to apologize."

His eyes lifted once more to whatever had caught his attention and she saw his jaw tighten.

"I apologize. Now get out of my way."

"See? It wasn't even that hard! A full five minutes for something that would have taken ten seconds if you weren't such an asshole and- ".

As quickly as falling asleep, her world went black. There was no sound that preceded her loss of consciousness, at least none that she could remember. There was everything and then there was nothing. Nothing but a pair of angry green eyes in the darkness that swooped in and swallowed her.


	2. Chapter 2

**First of all, can I just say thank you so much to everyone who read the first chapter and followed/favorited! My heart is warm with gratitude and I'm so happy that you liked it enough to stick around for a hot minute. And to the two lovely humans that left reviews (Orquwen & pandorasmischief), you're incredibly kind and I'm so happy for your words of encouragement! This next chapter was a pain in the bunions to write and I always hate setting a story up so please bear with me while the wheels get turning enough for us to start diving into the good stuff. Thank you again for stopping by and I hope you enjoy!**

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Nora was prone to hangovers. If she had that extra sip of beer, she would absolutely pay for it in the morning. The headaches, though, were the worst. Endless throbbing and excruciating pulsations of pain would land her in bed for hours. Nothing was worse than the current pounding against her skull. What did she drink last night? Even her 21st birthday hadn't been this bad, and she'd been so drunk she got kicked out of the bar for accusing the bartender of working for "the no-good goonies up at Area 51" and throwing her shot on him "for her alien brethren".

She cracked an eye open despite the gross crusty that tried to glue her lid shut. She instinctively brought her hand up to clear the morning goo from her eye and immediately recoiled when she saw that it was deep red in color. Both eyes sprang open in shock. The blinds were shut but there was enough light to see that this most definitely was not your run-of-the-mill eye crusty.

Panic quickly overtook her and she tried to shoot up, only to feel a rush of violent agony as something in her torso screamed out in protest in response to her movement. She let out a pathetic groan as she let her head crash back down against the pillow.

"If you keep thrashing around like a dying animal you'll open up your stitches," a smooth voice berated from the opposite side of the room.

Whipping her gaze towards the owner of the voice, Nora quickly stifled a gasp.

"What the shit are you doing here?" She questioned, hysteria creeping into her veins as recognition broke through the haze of confusion. "You're that asshole from the street!"

The green-eyed stranger barely glanced her way as she spoke, instead focusing his gaze out the window, scanning the streets below with unwavering concentration.

When he did not immediately answer her, she felt her frustration manifest into a physical reaction. Grabbing the nearest object (which, luckily for both of them was a small, decorative pillow) she hurled it at his head with all of her strength. It pathetically bounced off of his shoulder and fell to the floor with a soft thud. Still, he did not bother to tear his eyes from the window.

"Can you please tell me what the fuck is going on?" She demanded, her voice becoming shrill with anger and uncertainty.

She watched as he took a deep breath, scanning the busy sidewalk eight floors below for a final time.

"You get three questions," he said, finally lifting his eyes to meet hers.

She sputtered, unable to form the words that were rapidly spinning around her head.

"Th-th-three," she stuttered, her vision turning red with anger. "Fuck!"

"That isn't a question," he pointed out, the ghost of a smirk gracing his face as he moved towards her.

She slowly pushed herself up, the pain in her side protesting with the movement and contraction of each muscle. Finally, she was able to maneuver herself into a sitting position with her back resting against the headboard. She noted that she was still in her work clothes and hadn't been undressed, which meant that her levels of panic were slowly dipping into a manageable range. Her questions were bordering on limitless, though, and he had the audacity to limit her to three?

"How did I get back to my apartment?"

He moved closer to her bed, casually pulling a wooden chair from the desk in the corner of the room and positioning it far enough away so that he wasn't within reach to touch or, in this case, throttle.

"I checked your identification card and brought you to the address listed. You have your keys clearly labeled, which is a practice that I would strongly advise you against continuing in the future."

"Why is that?"

"Should someone have ill intentions," he paused to cement the smirk on his face, "you would only be simplifying the steps for them to achieve such dastardly thoughts. After all, you know not what I am capable of and yet here I am, sitting comfortably in the bedroom of the strange girl who berated me on the street only hours before."

The calm confidence in his voice did nothing to quell the anxiety bubbling up in Nora's stomach. He was right; he could have done absolutely anything to her while she was unconscious and even now in her weakened state he still had the upper hand. The impish grin on his face and the mischief dancing behind his eyes only made her more aware of how utterly powerless she was in his presence. In addition to these concerns, she found herself thinking that something about him seemed familiar and yet foreign at the same time. It was as if she'd seen his face in a dream or passed him on the street but there was no way to connect the dots to formulate a concrete recognition.

"What happened to me?" She quickly asked, feeling herself getting lost in her thoughts and wanting to stray from the rabbit hole of over-analyzation she was dangerously close to falling down.

"That's a bit more difficult to explain," he started, leaning back in his chair as if he were getting ready to tell her a bedtime story. "The short answer is that there are people who want me dead. Many of them, in fact. If you hadn't been such an incessant, relentless child about something as trivial as accidental contact between strangers, you most likely would have been spared the energy blast that was undoubtedly meant for me. Instead, as we are now both aware, you are an annoying, inexorable, irritating little twit and, therefore, you've now become my problem for the foreseeable future."

Nora felt the air rushing into her open mouth but couldn't find the motivation to close it. First, this jackass has the nerve to bump into her and keep walking like she was nothing. Then, he refuses to apologize for being such a dick. THEN, because he is apparently a huge dick to everyone, someone tries to shoot him and yet she's the one to suffer. On top of all of this, he has the nerve to call _her_ an irritating twit?!

"Do close your mouth before I stick a teat in it to nurse you into an adult who is capable of controlling her emotions," he instructed, the sharpness of his tone bringing her back into the situation.

"You're such a bitch," she spat. He chuckled at her attempt at an insult which only fueled the rage swirling inside her.

"Why have I become your problem? Why can't you just leave me to deal with myself, huh? I don't know you and I sure as hell don't fucking like you so why are you still here?"

"First of all, you've reached your limit of questions allowed. For the sake of clarity, I will extend my limit to answer your queries, as I am a merciful god."

"Merciful god? Are you high?"

"You're overextending your interrogation privileges," he replied, folding his arms and raising his brows as if to scold her. "You see, I think we can work together, Nora Baker. You've clearly got a need for protection and I need to lay low for a bit. You're correct in assuming that we share mutual feelings of hostility and discontent, however, I propose we push these feelings to the side for temporary purposes and benefit from one another. What say you?"

He shot her a smile, clearly pleased with himself and undoubtedly expecting a jovial exclamation of agreement to his proposition.

"You're literally the weirdest person I've ever met in my entire life. I'm calling the cops," she muttered, wondering why she hadn't the sense to do so earlier. She went to grab her phone off of the nightstand when it shot from underneath her fingers and landed in the outstretched palm of the man across from her.

"What the- "

"I don't think I was clear in my proposal, Nora. You will help me for as long as I need it and I will allow you to live out the rest of your pathetic, insignificant life. My olive branch to you was forming my demand in the form of a question, so that you might feel in control of the situation. The reality is I can crush your skull from the corner of the room without ever touching you, should I desire it. Right now, I am willing to allow you the freedom to cooperate with me. Should you continue to protest and cause me this level of irritation and vexation, I will simply operate under the guise of being your partner while your body rots in the corner of this miserable room. I ask you again, Nora Baker, can we work together to ensure a happy ending for the both of us?"

While fear coursed through her veins like a river of ice, she couldn't help but curse that goddamn subway and her quest for becoming an established New Yorker. Well, New York, how was she doing now? Getting shot by some weird energy blast and then threatened by a violent murderer in her apartment all before dinnertime had to count for something, right?

"Who are you?" She finally asked, her voice shaky with terror.

"I am Loki Laufeyson, and you, Nora, are my golden ticket."


End file.
